SPEW Is Insignificant
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: Hermione's House Elf Movement is vindicated but also swept aside due to the fact that it was never needed in the first place. Wizards should consider reading up on all the laws they have to follow. Or Professor Pemberly's study hall might just have to take action.
1. Chapter 1

**Just a little idea that jumped into my head. Takes place post-DH, all deaths or pairings are cannon. Enjoy.**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Disclaimer: All characters, settings, and ideas you recognize belong to JK Rowling. Professor Edward Pemberly belongs to me.**

**S.P.E.W. Is Insignificant**

18 year-old Neville Longbottom sighed yet again, looking up from his Charms essay which was due the next day. It wasn't incredibly difficult, as he had had this class material taught to him last year. No, Neville had not failed his seventh year at Hogwarts, he had to take it again because of a few of his subjects having been taught inadequately by unqualified professors (Death Eaters, to be specific.) and that resulted in not having been able to take his N.E.. He needed to take these exams if he wished to be qualified himself to teach, Herbology specifically, which was his dream, as he had not been given a pass like some people (a certain Golden Trio came to mind).

Interestingly enough, it was a member of this famous team that was distracting him from his school work. But it wasn't surprising that even though Hermione Granger, lover of all things educational and Ron Weasley, had been told she did not need to take her seventh year, she took it anyway. But unfortunately for him, Neville had had the misfortune of asking her about what it was the older girl wished to do when she graduated. Truth be known, she had quite the extensive plan, and was now rambling about making changes to Wizard laws, including freedom, wages, and benefits for House Elves.

"Hermione, give it a rest," Ginny Weasley, now also seventh year, cut across. "No one, not even the House Elves, wants things to change, and even if Neville took a 'spew' badge from you a few years ago, he's not really that interested." Neville flushed a little at having been called, but Hermione's frustration was unleashed upon the red-head.

"It doesn't matter if people don't want the change, Ginny, it has to happen. They're being treated like slaves! And it is S.P.E.W., not 'spew'!" she glared heatedly at the hated nickname given to her precious organization.

"Granger, shut up!" Another student complained from across the study hall classroom. "No one cares, and we're tired of hearing your voice."

The bushy-haired brunette turned a dark red color to match the Gryffindor crest on her robes, and was about to retort when—

"Pardon me, I couldn't help overhearing," spoke the man who had this whole time been sitting in his large wooden chair at the front of the classroom, feet resting comfortably on top of his desk, one leg crossed over the other, head tilted to the side as if absorbing the chaos in some type of study. He placed the book he had been reading on the desk, to the right of his feet, and Professor Edward Pemberly focused his full attention on his study hall, eyes focused on Hermione. "Who exactly are being treated as slaves?"

Neville felt sorry for the new Muggle Studies professor, for the man did not know what he had brought upon himself.

"House Elves, professor," Hermione said eagerly, no doubt hoping she would find a follower. The man was obviously muggleborn; the way he dressed, the books he wore, and the fact that he used paper and pencil or pens instead of parchment and quill, it all screamed 'muggle'. "Wizards who can afford to buy them own them, make them do anything they order, and sometimes abuse them horribly. That's why I started S.P.E.W.: the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. It's to start the movement to free House Elves and have them treated as true members of the Wizarding World." Quite a few students snorted at the young woman's speech, but quickly choked on their snot at the professor's response.

"I'm afraid that isn't necessary, Miss Granger." The Gryffindor looked hurt, shocked by his dismissal.

"Sir, it most certainly is, slavery is wrong—"

"Yes, and illegal." There was murmuring all around. Owning House Elves wasn't illegal, everyone knew that. But then Pemberly smirked, and Neville couldn't help but wait in anticipation of what the man would say. "Under the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833 passed by Parliament, the owning of slaves within the British Empire was made illegal." Again, the confusion.

The one who had insulted Hermione earlier snorted and rolled his eyes. "Professor, with all due respect, that's the muggle government. We're wizards."

"And loyal British citizens, who must follow British law the same as anyone else. Mr. Redding, where do we live?"

"Great Britain, sir."

"Correct. We are allowed to live on British soil, own property, and make use of public conveniences, such as transit. In return, we pay taxes and obey laws passed by Parliament, Great Britain's lawmaking body. Naturally, as we are wizards and have chosen to hide our existence from the muggle populace, we need the Wizengamot to pass laws that we follow that deal with magical situations. However, we still must follow all laws passed by Parliament. This making sense?" Most students nodded, Neville among them, but Redding wasn't finished.

"Sir, House Elves are creatures—"

"And are capable of human, if not higher, intelligence." Pemberly's voice was cool, and the man sat up fully, looking the student directly in the eye. "They can think, speak, and act for themselves just as well as any wizard, just as well as any human. That, therefore, makes them British citizens in the eyes of the law. Owning or abusing them is illegal. The movement to free them was already started and completed over a hundred years ago."

"Oh, of course!" Hermione said, eyes shining with excitement, and looking only slightly put out that there really was no reason for S.P.E.W. to exist. "But sir, why hasn't anything been done about it?"

"Most likely because the Minister of Magic has neglected to tell the Prime Minister about it, Miss Granger, as the only interaction the Prime Minister has right now with the Wizarding World is through meetings set up by the Minister of Magic." The man shook his head at this, clearly disagreeing with the policy.

"So then the Prime Minister isn't getting the full story!" Ginny spoke up, indignant. Her father wasn't the only Weasley who spoke up for muggles, after all.

Pemberly nodded. "No, sadly he does not. Wizards are rather paranoid of showing even the Prime Minister too much of the Wizarding World. Unfortunately, this results in rather crude, medieval practices, such as the owning of House Elves, to continue."

"But, if it was brought to the attention of the Prime Minister, it could be stopped?" Hermione asked hopefully, and Neville could see her writing the letter in her mind.

"It's certainly worth a try," said the Professor with a shrug, but Neville thought he could detect a hint of support and hope in that statement.

That was all the encouragement Hermione needed. His fellow Gryffindor was packing everything in her bag, no doubt ready to make a mad dash to the library to look up facts and the like. Redding, and several other students looked stunned at this revelation that so many had been knowingly breaking a law, or that such a law existed in the first place.

The bell rung then, cutting through the amazed classroom, and Hermione was out the door. Other students began getting all their things together and heading out. Professor Pemberly stood, stretching lazily, then grabbed his long coat which had been slung across the back of his chair, and headed out of the classroom.

"I hope the House Elves have prepared an excellent lunch. If so, I'll have to give them a hefty tip."

**Yeah, I know that it's probably random, but I still like it. Please review and let me know your thoughts. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I was kind of surprised, but a couple of people have requested that I write more about Professor Pemberly; he's likeable, it seems. I'm so glad. So I'll be periodically posting new chapters here about different topics. The inspiration for a lot of them will be coming from my other story/essay _The Structure of the Government in Harry Potter_, which I highly recommend and shamelessly plug. Now, on with the chapters!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Lost Revenue**

They stared, and he turned a page. They watched, and his eyes scanned the words. They were silent, and he didn't move, didn't speak.

It had been a week since Professor Edward Pemberly's impromptu lecture, and the students it seemed hadn't gotten enough. Neville felt a little foolish, but he had felt like something was _beginning_ that fall day. And yet the Muggle Studies teacher sat as he always did, with his feet on the desk, a new book in his hand. The seventh-year felt vaguely disappointed.

He heard a little sigh escape Hermione beside him. She had parchment and quill out, as though hoping to take notes, but no lesson was being given today. Redding coughed awkwardly in the back, and Ginny had her cheek resting on her fist.

A pair of eyes rose from the text as they took in the rows of quiet students.

"Does someone need something?" Pemberly asked casually. The girls flushed red while they boys looked away, embarrassed at having been caught.

"No, Professor," Hermione finally managed, and Pemberly tilted his head.

"Well, alright then. This isn't a silent study hall, you know. You can talk, provided you play nicely amongst yourselves." He smiled politely, and Neville thought Redding turned a darker shade.

Gradually, the room returned to its usual grumble of voices, turning of pages, and scratching of quills. Luna, who had been in the library the day Professor Pemberly had interrupted Hermione's battle for House-Elfs, began to tell the girl next to her about the expedition she and her father had taken that summer.

"That's nice, Luna," the other Ravenclaw said absently, but perked up a little at the thought of something. "But my Daddy's taking us on a cruise this holiday. It's on a Muggle ship, but I think it'll be pretty exciting. The goblins took some weird fee when he was getting the money exchanged, though." Her nose was scrunched up in confusion, and Luna didn't seem to have an answer for it.

"That would be a tax, Miss Martin," said Pemberly and all the students looked up.

"A what?" the girl, Martin, asked.

"A tax. It's a fee taken from a certain percent of the cost of your purchase, and the money goes to the government."

"But why?"

"Hey, I've noticed that before," said Anthony Hopkins, "Sometimes when my mum sends me to get the groceries, the price they ask me for at the register is different than the one on the tag." The professor nodded, and then clarified.

"The price on the tag is the sales or retail price. The tax is a percent of that, and is added on at the register." It sort of made sense, but—

"Why is the government taking money?" For once Redding asked a decent question. Hermione looked about to open her mouth and answer, but Pemberly took the question, placing his book down on the desk. Neville sat forward a little, interested in what he had to say.

"Tax money is given to the government so that they can use it to build roads or subway systems, give relief in emergencies or to the poor, and to pay their employees. The idea is that that money will go back into the system in such a way that it will benefit the taxpayers in the long run."

"Oh, so Ministry employees get paid with tax money? But, I don't remember my parents ever mentioning it," Ginny said, expressing the puzzlement of everyone else. Neville knew his Gran had never mentioned such a thing.

"Not quite," and Pemberly actually stood, going over to his board and erasing the reading assignment he had given to his actual classes. "Taxes are only in the Muggle system. In the Muggle world, when you buy an item, say at a store, you pay money to the cashier."

The teacher drew a stick figure handing over Muggle bills, money, to a box that he labeled _Store_. Then he turned and continued.

"Now, you subtract the retail price, the price on the tag, from the total price that includes tax. The amount that you get out goes to the government as a tax."

He finished his little diagram by drawing one bill above the building, and an arrow pointing up to a second, bigger box labeled _Government_. Placing the chalk down in the tray, he faced his study hall students again.

"That's how it works in the Muggle world. But, as Miss Weasley pointed out, your parents do not pay taxes to the Wizarding government, the Ministry of Magic."

Martin tilted her head and asked, "But then how does the Ministry pay its workers or build things or help people?"

"Well, for starters, the Ministry cuts back on a lot of expenses, as many as it can. Hogwarts is a private school, meaning that the government does not have to give it money, everything you see here is paid for buy your tuition fees. The Ministry also does not give much, if any, aid to wizards or witches in need."

"But it still has to pay its employees," Hermione cut in, though with her hand raised in the air. "So where does it get the money for that?"

"Why, donations, of course."

"Donations, from where?" Neville blurted. He'd never seen anyone from the Ministry ask for donations.

Pemberly favored him with a wry grin. "From the highest bidder, Mr. Longbottom."

Hermione gasped at his side in realization. "So that's why, er, certain people are so high up in the Ministry! They pay their way there!"

"That's it exactly, Miss Granger. In return, the Minister is willing to lend a rather large ear to any suggestions their backer has."

Ginny looked outraged once again, and Neville could feel some anger building in him as well. "That's got to be illegal," the redhead said, fist curling around her quill.

"In the Muggle world it is. It's called bribery. Here, it is quite openly practiced." He placed his hands in the pockets of his trousers and gave a little shrug. "But, there's not much to be done about it."

"Don't say that, Professor!" Hermione said aghast. "There's always something—somebody—_we_ have to do something!" Neville was alarmed at the intensity of her outburst, but swallowed and spoke as well.

"That's right, sir, we should do something about it. Now that we know, I mean." His classmates were all staring at him, and the professor as well, but he took a breath and held his gaze.

"Well then, I wish you luck," came the simple response from the man with a warm, encouraging smile. Neville had to wonder whether or not his professor's moment of negativism was imagined.

But the bell rang and the study hall students could hear their fellow students standing, scraping desks and chairs, and the beginnings of thunderous footsteps to lunch.

"Come on, Neville," Hermione said, already up and tugging on his arm.

"Come on where?" He asked the bushy-haired girl, bewildered. Hermione was not normally so excited for a meal.

"To the library of course," she replied and Neville resisted the urge to say "Of course" back to her. "You said you would help, right? Well, we've got a lot of work ahead of us; it won't be easy coming up with a tax system to propose to the Ministry."

"What?" But she had already pulled him to the door.

"I can't believe it," he heard Redding say to another student as they left. "those filthy-rich purists have been in control this whole time!" It seemed their Slytherin peer was not a total bigot after all.

Neville glanced back when they were almost down the corridor to see Professor Pemberly leaning against his doorframe with his coat over one shoulder, giving them a cheery wave. And then Hermione rounded the corner and it was off to the library.

**I'm hoping this was good. I really want to continue it now, but I need feedback if that's going to happen. You're welcome to give suggestions, or just tell me what you thought. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, this story seems to have its own little following. I'm so happy! Thanks for motivating me into continuing what was just a little thought into something much more.**

**Dobby's Socks**

**Chapter Three:**

**Independence Desired**

"Seamus, really, go to Transfiguration. It's not worth it; the Professor will probably send you back anyway." Neville tried in vain to shoo his dorm mate in the other direction as the two journeyed down the corridor. But Seamus Finnegan was not to be dissuaded; he had heard that _something_ was going on in Neville's study hall, something interesting, and he wanted to see for himself.

"Like hell he will. Neville, Pemberly's the most laid back teacher we've had since Lupin. Besides, how's he supposed to know if I have a class right now?"

"You wouldn't dare if McGonagall was still teaching Transfiguration," Hermione pointed out with a disapproving look. They had caught up to her at the door.

"Well, she's not. She chose to be Headmistress, so it's not my fault if her replacement's dead boring. Not near as bad as Binns, but still." Neville merely shrugged helplessly at the girl, and all three entered.

Seamus' prediction was correct as Pemberly did not send him back, let alone comment about the extra student in his study hall. But neither did he do anything particularly exciting. He was in his favorite position behind the desk, and Neville noted in his head that the professor had finished his previous book.

"So when's something supposed to happen?" Seamus asked after a few minutes, clearly bored. Neville couldn't blame him; in fact he sometimes wracked his brains on the way to class trying to think of something interesting to say that would provoke a discussion. In the end, he always decided none of his thoughts were good enough.

"Something 'happens', Seamus," Hermione told him, still annoyed at him for skipping class, "when a topic gets brought up someone doesn't understand. For example, last class he talked about the tax system—"

"Say, that reminds me," Anthony Hopkins cut in from behind. "I was talking to one of my friends about that, and he said that his taxes are higher than mine. Why is that?"

All eyes turned to the front, and Pemberly looked up from his book after a moment.

"Hm? Oh, you were asking me. Well, Mr. Hopkins, your friend was most likely talking about sales taxes. Those are decided by your local government, split up by counties."

"Wait," said Redding, "You're saying the Muggles have two different governments?" Neville had to admit he did not understand this either.

"No, they merely have a more extensive chain of command. The local governments regulate things in their own areas, but also report to the federal government for major things. This is so that the federal government doesn't have to regulate, say, the speed limit on every road in the country. Local governments are especially crucial for the smooth running of huge countries, such as the United States of America."

"So, taxes that go to the federal government are for?"

"Funding relief efforts, programs, paying off debts incurred, and employees, Miss Martin. The local sales tax is for paying for public schools, building roads, and employees. A county that has just built or repaved roads will likely have higher taxes than one that does not."

"How much is my sales tax?" Seamus suddenly asked. For his part, Professor Pemberly merely blinked at the other wizard before continuing.

"Well, which county do you live in?"

"Kerry." Pemberly blinked again, though Neville wasn't sure why.

"I'm not exactly familiar—Kerry is in Ireland, yes?—with the sales taxes in Ireland." Neville knew it wasn't the right thing for the man to tell Seamus, but he had had no idea how to warn him. Seamus frowned, obviously annoyed at what he perceived to be a slight.

"What's the matter with the Irish counties? Can't be bothered to remember their taxes?" Seamus was lucky that the Professor was the most laid back teacher since Remus Lupin; most other professors would immediately take offense.

"I could tell you the taxes of Northern Ireland. I just haven't gotten around to memorizing the sales taxes of different countries yet." This caused a ripple of confusion to spread through the class.

"But, sir, Ireland is a part of this country," Ginny said, but the professor just got a strange small smile on his face.

"You're half-correct. Ireland is a part of the British Ministry of Magic. In the Muggle world, however, that is not the case." He left his chair and went to the board, picking up one of many tiny pieces of chalk he had worn down. "Ireland is partitioned into Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland." He then wrote _Anglo-Irish Treaty (1922)_ and Neville saw Hermione dive for her bag to retrieve parchment, ink, and quill.

"Now then," Pemberly began, "this treaty ended the Irish War of Independence that started at around the turn of the century. The Republic of Ireland was officially named a sovereign state in 1937, and in 1949 all remaining duties carried out by the British monarch were transferred to an elected official, making it a republic."

"But, why isn't there an Irish Ministry of Magic?" Neville asked. Shouldn't the political separation be complete?

"Well, since the Statue of Secrecy was put in place in 1692, wizards have not really become aware of Irish independence."

"Because the Prime Minister doesn't get to request his own meetings, I'll bet," Ginny remarked with crossed arms.

"That's part of it."

"Hold on a minute!" Seamus said, holding up a hand as if to pause the dialogue. "So, what you're saying is the Irish Muggles have independence, but the Ministry is refusing to recognize that and let us have our own magical government?"

"You could look at it that way," Pemberly said.

"What do I do?" Everyone looked at Seamus in shock. "What do I have to do to get full independence for my country?"

"I would recommend starting with a petition and working your way up. That's how these things are done, after all," the professor replied simply. Seamus nodded and then stood. Neville had no idea where his friend was going.

"Seamus?"

"Neville, I don't expect you to work with me on this one, but this is about freedom, for me and my countrymen. You wouldn't stand in the way of that, would you?" He was already at the door, his eyes boring into Neville's.

"N-no, of course not!" Seamus was gone before he could say anything else. Neville sighed, then glanced at Hermione. "He's going to get in trouble for being caught out of class, isn't he?"

"Most certainly," the other girl responded.

A warm hand was place on his shoulder, and Neville turned back around in his seat to see Professor Pemberly. "I wouldn't worry too much over it, Mr. Longbottom. It's not as though I could write Mr. Skipper a pass anyway." Neville turned a little red, ashamed he had assumed Pemberly did not realize Seamus had been cutting class. The professor probably didn't even know the Irish boy's name!

And yet, he had bothered to answer any of Seamus' questions, and had stoked a fire in the Gryffindor. One Neville wasn't sure could be blown out. Would Hogwarts once again become the center of revolution?

"Hey, Neville. That's the bell," Ginny said, and the older boy noticed that most everyone else in the class had gathered their things and were exiting the classroom.

"Oh, sorry," he said, standing quickly and grabbing his bag.

"Have a good afternoon," Pemberly said from where he was putting on his coat.

Seamus wouldn't even be at lunch, no doubt hard at work on his petition.

**And so someone new has been affected. I know it does not explicitly state in the books whether Ireland has its own government, but in GoF, the Irish Quidditch team is represented by Fudge, while the Bulgarian Ministry is represented by the Bulgarian Minister. I personally feel that if there were an Irish Minister, he would have been in the Top Box instead, so that makes me think there is not an Irish Ministry of Magic. They would probably have their own school, too. On a side note, I said Seamus lives Kerry because his favorite Quidditch team is from Kenmare. Anyway, let me know what you thought of this one! Thank you for reading, please review, and Happy Holidays!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone, I was looking through some of my old stories and realized it's been some months since I updated this one! Sorry about that.**

**At any rate, it's been mentioned that this story is rather choppy. That's true; I originally intended for it to be a oneshot, but it's now more of a series of vignettes. In the interest of taking your suggestions, however, this chapter serves more as a transition between the little meetings our favorite study hall class has, and maybe ties this story together into more of a continuous plot. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Four:**

**Hitting a Roadblock**

At thirteen, Hogsmeade had been an exciting new frontier, unexplored by his fellow peers, and waiting to greet each of them with its softly lit windows, sweets and Butterbeer, and a day of wandering the happy, snowy street till the evening.

Now at eighteen, he saw the small village for what it really was: a crowded, tiny, wet, absolutely freezing playpen. A place where they were permitted to stretch their legs, but still had a metaphorical fence to keep them in.

All the same, Neville didn't mind so much when the girls pulled him inside The Three Broomsticks to get out of the cold. He knew Hermione and Ginny had been looking forward to this day for weeks, as they were meeting up with Harry and Ron. Neville had to admit, he was quite happy to see his two friends and former dorm mates again as well, though he felt a little awkward tagging along for this double-date.

Make that triple-date. He also knew what Hermione and Ginny were doing purposefully inviting Luna along as well, and it wasn't just being good friends. Now, there was nothing wrong with Luna, in fact Neville quite enjoyed spending time with their Ravenclaw companion; he just didn't like her the way the others seemed to want him to.

It was a silly assumption his friends were making anyway. He and Luna were both a little odd and socially awkward, so they'd be a cute couple? He was almost offended, but he knew they didn't really mean it. Fortunately, Luna didn't seem to be making any of these assumptions either.

"That's them over there, isn't it?" The blonde girl asked in her dreamy voice.

"Yeah, good eye, Luna!" Ginny grinned, and began moving eagerly through the crowded pub, not seeming to care if she merely brushed or completely shoved someone out of the way.

"Honestly," Hermione huffed, but was also smiling as she followed after, leaving Neville to make the apologies and grab Luna's sleeve so the girl wouldn't get lost.

By the time he had arrived at the little corner table the other boys had procured, Ginny was leaning comfortably against Harry's side while Hermione was examining a particularly nasty cut on Ron's left palm. This also gave her the excuse to hold said appendage, but Neville chose not to voice that particular observation out loud.

"Really, it doesn't hurt hardly anymore," the redhead was saying, "Only when you—ow!—poke at it like that, Hermione."

"Sorry," the brunette muttered, cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment. Neville decided to turn himself into a distraction, dropping into the empty space to her left while Luna slid smoothly into the spot across from him.

"Hey Nev, Luna," Harry grinned at the two, while Ron gave a wave with his free hand.

"Hello, you two, how's the Auror training coming along?"

"Brilliant. Really exhausting, but it's worth it," Harry told him, Ron nodding along.

"How'd you get this cut, Ron?" Hermione asked her boyfriend, and Ron shrugged.

"I volunteered for a simulation exercise: what to do in a hostage situation. I was the hostage. I look way better than Simmons, though, that bloke needs to be more careful!"

"Do they do a lot of those exercises?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Pretty often," Harry replied. "There're also a lot of lectures, practice dueling, and a whole lot of other things."

"They've been getting pretty serious, those lectures," Ron added. "You'd think that it being peace time would mean they'd be more relaxed, but no. It reminds me of Moody sometimes!" They all took a moment to sip quietly at their drinks, an unspoken sign of respect for their former professor.

"Well, I think it's good that they're keeping you alert. You never really know what could happen," Hermione pointed out.

"What do they talk about?" Ginny wanted to know.

"Well, that's the funny thing," Harry replied. "They seem almost certain that there's trouble stirring up, almost like from within."

"Within?" Neville repeated, and could not explain the uncomfortable feeling he was beginning to get in his stomach.

"Yeah. Apparently they've been getting these letters or protests lately, and some of them are downright treasonous."

"Yeah, some bloke talking about how he lives in 'muggle Ireland' so there should be a 'wizard Ireland', too. Oh, and there was someone else on about all that SPEW stuff, Mione, had a bunch of dates and facts to go with it. Kind of reminded me of you," the redhead grinned at the girl in question. But Hermione had turned absolutely pale and could only chuckle weakly in response. Neville knew why.

Those were _their_ letters Harry and Ron were talking about. Their friends were being warned against _them_.

"That's funny," Luna spoke suddenly, "Because we—"

"What has the Auror department worried, then?" Ginny cut across, much to the relief of both Neville and Hermione.

"They just think it's going to cause unnecessary trouble," Harry told them.

"It will only cause trouble if it's true," said a rather familiar voice, and Neville wasn't sure if he was glad or terrified to see Professor Pemberly in that moment.

"Professor!" Hermione squeaked, obviously thinking the same thing.

"Good afternoon. Enjoying the day out?" He inquired politely. They all answered in the affirmative.

"So, are you the new Defense professor?" Ron asked.

"My subject is Muggle Studies. Edward Pemberly," he added, offering his hand to both Harry and Ron.

"Ron Weasley," the redhead replied.

"Harry Potter," their famous friend rather unnecessarily said.

"An honor to meet you both," the professor remarked with a warm smile, causing Harry to awkwardly look away as was his custom and Ron to go slightly pink at the ears.

'What did you mean, sir?" Ginny couldn't help but ask. "It only causes trouble if it's true?"

"Well, Miss Weasley, the Ministry is receiving complaints from the people about the way their government is being run. That isn't anything to get too concerned about; people always criticize the government, it's healthy even. Now they are left with a decision: they can either acknowledge and correct whatever perceived transgressions have been committed, or they can ignore it and deflect." Neville had nearly convinced himself by the end of the impromptu lecture that they weren't in Hogsmeade at all, and were really just in another Study Hall.

"It sounds as if they've chosen option two," Luna commented with her usual cheerfulness.

"It would seem so," the man agreed. "Well, I'll leave you to the rest of your day." Neville watched as his professor walked to the bar, spoke quietly for a moment with Madam Rosemerta, and then left with a steaming mug.

"Well, what the bloody hell was that all about?" Ron finally asked.

"That's what he does," Hermione tried to explain.

"He sort of makes things make sense," Neville supplied.

"Well the Ministry's not denying anything," Harry disagreed.

"They haven't really said anything, Harry. And that's the point. They're ignoring our complaints." Luna was staring intently at their dark-haired friend now, completely focused.

"What do you mean 'our complaints'?" Ron asked with a slight frown.

"The people's complaints," Hermione salvaged, and Neville released a breath he'd been holding.

"Mione, it's just some extremists. Some people can't accept we're in peacetime; they just like to stir up trouble. They can't just…let the rest of us rest." Harry finished with a weary sigh, and Neville wondered how tired his friend really was. He felt annoyed by the other boy's dismissal, but also was worried for him.

Their Butterbeers were finished in a somewhat uncomfortable silence, and the six shuffled out the door into the cold.

"So we'll do this again next visit, yeah?" Ron asked the group at large.

"Of course," Hermione was quick to reassure, though her smile seemed a bit forced.

"Yeah, we'll catch you later," Ginny added, pulling away from a rather short hug with Harry and starting up the lane to the school. "Tell mum and the rest hi."

"Erm, until next time?" Neville supplied uncertainly, and couldn't stop his voice from turning up at the end into a question. The other two boys nodded and turned the other way.

"Happy Auror training!" Luna called to their retreating backs.

The four students made their way back to the castle, mostly silent as they were bundled up against the cold, but at last Hermione burst out, "Oh, what are we going to do! Harry and Ron aren't taking our letters and petitions seriously, and neither is the Ministry apparently."

"Big surprise there, those old warlocks don't change anything unless it's life or death," Ginny groused.

"Well…we'll just have to try harder," Neville resolved, and was surprised at the conviction with which he said it. Merlin knew he didn't feel so sure.

But his three friends smiled back at him, re-inspired by his words, and a small part of began to think that maybe they could in fact make a difference. And for now, that was enough.

**Stopping there. So, I know it was a break from the usual format, but I thought this would be the best way to move the plot forward, plus a Hogsmeade visit was the only way to include Harry and Ron. So, the Ministry is doing their usual bury-their-heads-in-the-sand routine. What will Professor Pemberly's study hall do next? Thanks so much for taking the time to read, and please review. I promise more Pemberly next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**So…I'd kind of forgotten about ever continuing this fic until I was randomly searching my files and found the beginning of this chapter. Then I read the old ones and—while they are certainly of a lower quality than my more recent work—they got me wanting to finish this chapter. That, and some of the more recent reviews made me realize that there are people who really like this idea. I can't guarantee that I'll update this story in a timely fashion, but we'll just see how it goes.**

**Ok, so, as promised a return to Professor Pemberly's study hall. You guys really seem to like him. Thanks go to Anon for pointing out to me that this fic was listed as complete—it was originally a one-shot, so I likely forgot to change it to in-progress when I continued it. That's been fixed. At any rate, on with the fic!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Five:**

**Opportunity Knocks**

"Neville? Neville, you even in there?"

"I think he must have died of shock. He's been that way since breakfast."

"I suspect the Startling Striped Stigoppers. They're quite well known for their—"

"Stop it, the lot of you. Maybe he's actually utilizing his study hall instead of chatting away like you three."

Neville was in fact quite aware that his four friends were talking about him. He just didn't seem to be able to tear his gaze from the parchment in his hand. At breakfast, he had received an owl with an official looking envelope with the Ministry seal upon it. Feeling slightly nervous, mostly because of the conversation they had had with Harry and Ron the last Hogsmeade weekend, he had opened the letter to read its contents.

_Dear Mr. Longbottom,_

_We write to inform you that as heir to the House of Longbottom and being of age, you are now eligible to campaign for the House of Lords, High Branch of the Wizengamot. Please note that you must inform the Ministry of your decision either to accept or decline, no later than December 31__st__ of this year._

_ We await your response,_

_Tiberius Ogden, Chief Warlock_

His gran had mentioned this once or twice, but during that time when she'd nearly given up on him as a wizard she had stopped, and it had honestly slipped his mind. Neville had always intended to decline, anyway. But now…

"Are you sure you're alright?"

He finally tore his eyes from the inked in words, looking up at a concerned Ginny Weasley.

"Of course. I just- got something in the mail this morning," he informed her.

"Yeah, we saw," said Seamus, once more skipping transfiguration. He wondered when the professor would finally report the Irish boy to McGonagall.

"You want to tell us who it's from?" The redhead prompted, and he sighed before simply retrieving the letter from his bag and laying it out on the desk for them all to see.

"The House of Lords?" Hermione's eyes were wide as saucers. "I never realized your family was eligible for it."

"Well, they're pureblood, so," he shrugged uncomfortably, knowing how touchy blood purity was, especially these days.

"That's wicked though, Neville. You're an heir!" Seamus grinned teasingly at him as he asked, "How should I address you, then, your Lordship?"

"Come off it," he scowled. "And anyway, I thought I wasn't your Lord—aren't you trying to free your country from my influence?" Now it was his friend's turn to frown at the reminder.

"Well, now that we know the Ministry isn't listening to our petitions and they're intercepting our letters to the Prime Minister, that's looking a little harder than I thought. Think you two could call your boyfriends off?" His dorm mate looked to Hermione and Ginny, who both bristled at the comment.

"So what are you going to do?" Luna asked Neville before an argument could start between the three other Gryffindors. When he looked at her in confusion, she elaborated, "Are you going to run for office?"

"Well I- I don't know," he replied truthfully. "I mean, it's not like it'd make much difference anyway—"

"Why?" Hermione interrupted. "Neville, they're practically reserving a seat for you—I'm not sure how the entire Wizengamot works, but I'm sure it's not totally like that."

"What do you mean?" Ginny inquired.

"Well, they've asked Neville if he wants to run for the House of Lords. It's not like they're writing me to join the- oh, I don't know what the other one is—"

"It's just what you would expect, Miss Granger: the House of Commons. Our Ministry borrowed the terms from Muggle Parliament," Professor Pemberly entered the conversation as abruptly as he always did. He was already placing his book down and removing his feet from the desk.

"You mean Parliament's got two houses, too?" Ginny asked.

"That is correct; the House of Lords is the upper house and is in large part hereditary, while the Commons is made up of elected officials."

"I thought your Muggle government wasn't into bribes or purity," Redding snidely remarked and the Muggle Studies teacher tilted his head at the boy in wry acknowledgement.

"Well, there has always been a certain degree of aristocracy in British society. But the majority of the Lords cannot merely take their place; they have to be appointed by the Monarch, who does so on advice from the Prime Minister."

"How's it done here, then?" Seamus spoke up. Professor Pemberly stepped forward, and gesturing in question toward the letter, waited until Neville nodded before picking it up.

"The House of Lords in the Wizengamot has a seat for every pureblood family. Not all of these have to be filled—if no member of a certain family wishes to participate in politics, then it is simply retired until a generation where someone does. In some cases, when a family line dies out—such as, say, the Crouch line—the seat is retired permanently.

"In Mr. Longbottom's case, he is the only heir to the House of Longbottom. His family seat is currently retired and the Wizengamot had to wait until he came of age before inquiring as to whether it will be renewed. The campaign, after all, is mostly to determine if he is qualified, not a competition for votes."

"Is it a competition in the House of Commons?"

"Yes, Miss Martin. The House of Commons has a set number of seats that anyone can run for. All they have to do is convince enough voters that they deserve a seat."

"If it's just a question of whether the Ministry thinks you should be in the House of Lords, why isn't Malfoy in the Wizengamot?" Ginny asked, skeptically. "Or his dad, seems like just the sort of place he'd fit in."

"Ah, that involves a bit of history," the Professor replied, before adding, "Though I assume you're talking of Draco Malfoy and his father, Lucius, Miss Weasley, you might want to remember that not everyone will always share your views—or dislike—of a person." Though the advice was offered up friendly enough, the red-haired girl still blushed to match the flaming strands.

"You're saying we shouldn't talk about them negatively to other people," Hermione surmised, and he nodded.

"In school, it might be alright enough, but in the real world it can seem quite rude. And if you want people to like you and listen to your opinions on important issues, it's not good to let silly grudges get in the way. Respect for others and the respect that they have for you, in whatever you do—and certainly in government—is key." Though he'd been responding to the brunette's statement, the man finished with his eyes on Neville, as if such counsel had really been meant for him. Perhaps it had.

"Professor, what about Malfoy's dad and history?" Seamus broke in, seeming not to bother with giving their former classmate's father much respect.

The study hall teacher hid his amusement well, and placed Neville's letter back on the desk. He then paced back to the front of the classroom, talking as he went, and Hermione apparently remembered she was forgetting to take notes as she quickly retrieved the necessary supplies. "Near the end of the First Wizarding War, several alleged Death Eaters were caught who also happened to be peers in the House of Lords—that's not to say the upper house wasn't the only suspicious part of the Wizengamot; plenty of members in the House of Commons had been found out to be supporters of Voldemort as well."

Though Neville had by now gotten rid of his fear of the infamous wizard's name, several of his classmates hadn't and jumped in their seats. He realized it was the first time the teacher had ever directly mentioned the evil man, and it made him wonder. Why didn't Professor Pemberly have the same aversion for using the near-tabooed name? What had he been doing during the war, during both wars? And just where had he come from, anyway?"

"Many of the captured Death Eaters plead innocence, and that they'd been under the Imperius Curse. Now, whether or not this was true," the Muggle Studies teacher held up a hand to stop the comments just waiting to burst forth. Ginny and Seamus in particular snapped their mouths shut. "It was just as disconcerting. So, as a show of their allegiance to the Ministry—yes, Lucius Malfoy included—they forfeited their family seats permanently."

"That's good," Anthony Hopkins muttered to his seat partner behind Neville. "Imagine how much trouble we'd have had if Malfoy and his cronies had been in charge _this_ time around, too?"

Neville ought to have felt the same; after all, he'd experienced for himself just what Draco Malfoy had been capable of with his goons Crabbe and Goyle to back him up in their Hogwarts days together. But he couldn't help remembering, too, how pale and thin and frightened the blond boy had looked those last couple years. And if his former classmate were to marry and have a child, who knew nothing of Voldemort or Death Eaters…

"Is that really fair, sir?" He finally looked up at the Professor, and he could feel his friends' shocked gazes on him. "Should the Wizengamot really punish those families forever? I mean, I could probably find some ancestor in my family who did, well, something bad, and I still got this letter." He held the parchment in his two hands once again. "What makes me anymore deserving than them?"

He knew the others were looking at him openly in disbelief, and even some disagreement. But when he chanced a glance back up at Professor Pemberly, the man was smiling warmly, like Neville had said the most brilliant thing in the world.

"Maybe not," was his simple answer. "Of course, it's too soon to tell, but perhaps the ban on those families will be lifted someday. What a show of progress that would be."

"What about the seats that can be filled now?" Hermione inquired, obviously trying to distract the others from the dubious looks they were giving the study hall teacher. "I mean, Neville can't be the only one who got a letter. What about, I don't know—Ernie Macmillan! Ernie's of age, too isn't he?"

Neville flushed and looked down at the desk, but it was Luna who replied serenely, "Ernie's father is already a member of the House of Lords. But I'm sure Susan Bones got a letter just like Neville's."

"Why Susan—?" Hermione started to ask, before breaking off with a gasp and staring in horror at him. "Oh, Neville, I didn't mean—your parents—I'm sorry—"

"Mr. Longbottom and Miss Bones will take up the position as Head of their family Houses upon their graduation," the Muggle Studies teacher interjected, and Neville was grateful the man hadn't singled just him out. "But the Longbottom seat would have been offered to Mr. Longbottom this year anyway."

"I know," Neville said softly, surprising himself as he continued, "my dad turned it down because he wanted to be an Auror."

Ginny placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and said, "That's okay, Neville. The Weasleys have been turning it down for centuries; we've probably got the record. Percy was furious when Bill declined." Neville couldn't help but grin with her at the image of the spectacled boy shouting at his older, ponytail-wearing brother.

"He must have been beside himself when the second offer was rejected," the Professor remarked, but Ginny looked at him in bewilderment.

"What second offer?"

"They didn't send it?" When the Gryffindor girl shook his head, he frowned. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Miss Weasley, but your mother's maiden name is Prewett."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, as her brothers had no children before their passing, the Prewett seat should have been offered to the eldest of their next-of-kin. Perhaps you'd have to send in a formal request, in which case, your other brother could possibly take the elder's place."

"Really? Any of us could ask for it?" His friend looked rather interested at the prospect. Before she could say anymore, however, the bell rang, effectively ending the discussion.

Hermione appeared rather reluctant to gather up her things and head down to lunch. "I had so many questions," she complained as they made their way for the door.

"You can always ask, Miss Granger," Professor Pemberly said from the desk, where he was pulling on his by now trademark coat. "That goes for anyone, of course."

Their group of five thanked him politely before making their way into the corridor. "I've got questions, too," Neville said as he glanced down at the letter still in his hand. "I never really thought I'd be considering this, but now…"

"I know, right?" Ginny agreed. "I just thought of the Wizengamot as a bunch of stuffy old people, but now that you've got that letter—"

"I'm not saying you have to, Neville," Hermione started tentatively, obviously still worried about having upset him earlier. "But definitely consider it—this could be our chance."

"I know," he said, feeling both excited and terrified at the prospect, "I know."

**So yeah, a lot of my own personal headcannon on how the Wizengamot works, but the stuff about Parliament I looked up, and like Professor Pemberly said the wizards have borrowed some from their Muggle counterparts (even if they'd never admit it). Things are moving into more of a plot now, I think, as I believe you can all see where this is going. At any rate, I thank you for your tremendous patience, thanks for reading and please review!**


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